


I Will Carry You With Me Up Every Hill

by AndreaLyn



Series: The Last to Know [3]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 02:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20268607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: After being the last to find out that they've been dating and are practically an old married couple, both Michael and Alex intend to go into this parenthood thing with their eyes wide open.(What they're learning is that maybe it's not so easy, but it seems like it'll be worth it)





	I Will Carry You With Me Up Every Hill

**Author's Note:**

> This will be the last in this series (probably), but thank you for coming along for the ride!

Alex knows that thirty is not old. 

He has at least two-thirds of his life ahead of him. He might even have more if they can figure out a way to unlock some of the strange alien powers his husband has, but on days like today, he has to remind himself that he’s not allowed to feel like an old man at thirty just because the kids on base seem younger every year.

Was he this bad at eighteen? He honestly wants to believe otherwise, but he’s struggling with it. 

“Hey!” he snaps, when they’re all chatting to each other in the class he’s teaching on basic computer security. “Is anyone actually paying attention or am I gonna have to hack into someone’s account to prove why you should be?” 

The row of guilty faces staring back at him is extremely telling. 

“This might be a basic course,” Alex says with a sigh, “but that doesn’t mean you should be slacking off. I don’t want to have to go to your superior officers, guys.” Yet, if the whispering and the ignoring keeps going, Alex is going to become _that_ guy. “This will come in handy on your missions, especially if you run into some heavy-duty tech or run into someone who’s able to pick out your location because you were sloppy. It’s more and more prevalent guys.”

His doom and gloom warnings clearly aren’t having much effect. 

He gets their attention for all of two minutes before they’re leaning in to whisper to one another, trying to buddy up on the assignment. Alex pinches the bridge of his nose and wishes that he could convince Isobel to come on base and try and influence his students to actually give a damn about what they’re doing.

Which would be an abuse of alien powers and put them in the line of danger and that’s why he’s not doing it. 

And yet, when Smith and Mitchell start snickering under their breath and one of the other students raises his hand to tell Alex that his computer just exploded, he doesn’t think it would be going too far. In fact, it seems proportional. 

Somehow, Alex makes it through the next hour, even if he has to get more kids to share one of the terminals than he’d like and they don’t even get through the full week’s lesson plan because they keep having to stop when Alex finds them hacking into porn sites and not the mock websites that Alex had created.

They don’t even seem to care about the fact that Alex is absolutely going to be reporting them.

“Out,” he dismisses them tiredly. 

He’s starting to regret not taking Michael’s suggestion to heart, because him waving off the idea of keeping liquor in his desk drawer means that after that debacle, he has to go the rest of day on base without a drink. Alex manages. He’s not sure how he does, but he makes it to the end of the day and gets to actually go home. 

By the time Alex gets back to the cabin, he feels _old_.

Bones creaking, asleep by nine, early bird dinner old. He hasn’t got energy to do anything more than flop down on the sofa when he gets back and doesn’t move until he hears the door being unlocked, to the sounds of Michael letting the dog in. “Babe,” Alex calls from the couch. “Please tell me that rustling sound is dinner.”

“It’s definitely not, unless you relaxed your standards,” Michael deadpans, which makes Alex wince when he turns to see that it’s the dog’s business all wrapped up. “I thought you were teaching today?”

“I was,” Alex admits. 

Michael takes the bag out to the trash, unleashes the dog, and then washes his hands before he drops down beside Alex, running his hand over Alex’s neck. The cool touch of Michael’s platinum wedding band soothes his headache and his body sags towards Michael. “They’re all babies,” he complains.

“They’re the same age you were when you enlisted,” Michael says, choosing to be sensible instead of appeal to his husband’s petty complaints. 

Bad decision.

If Alex were the one in possession of telekinetic powers, he’d have thrown something at Michael. He realizes belatedly that he doesn’t need that, which is the epiphany right before Alex takes one of the pillows on the couch and pelts it at Michael, feeling smug victory when it hits him right in the middle of his face.

Of course, now he has no pillow and he has to steal one from the next chair, curling up in a ball as he tries to summon up a second wind. Seconds later, he feels the couch dip by his feet, followed by Michael’s hand on Alex’s back, rubbing circles.

“Are they really that bad or is it that your patience isn’t what it used to be?”

“How can it be?” Alex quips. “You’ve used it all up.”

Michael isn’t laughing, but Alex feels a little better for Michael continuously rubbing his back. It's not that he wants to complain about his situation, especially when he knows it could be much worse. Removing himself from active duty had been a joint decision once they got married, but Alex hadn’t been prepared for staying in the service without being deployed. 

“I shouldn’t complain,” he admits, settling back against Michael’s body as he wraps his arm around him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Maybe I should revisit becoming a civilian contractor, just so I won’t have to deal with these kids who don’t bother to pay attention when I’m teaching them really useful stuff,” he protests, understanding how petulant he sounds.

If this is parenthood, then Alex is definitely not the patient sort.

Then again, he also didn’t end the class taking the back of his hand to any of his students’ faces, so he’s also not becoming his father, which had always been a mild concern. 

“If you go into the private sector, we could move up in the world,” Michael whispers, pressing kisses up Alex’s neck. “You could deal with adults who act like children, instead of actual children.”

Alex scowls because he knows Michael is right. He’s never going to completely escape people who think they know better and don’t pay attention to him. Still, if he’s going to do it, then he might as well be making decent money instead of the usual, ‘your country thanks you’ bullshit. He turns so he can look at Michael, because this is a big decision and he’s not making it if Michael is only joking.

“You’d support me if I did that? Switched?” he clarifies.

Michael gives him a fond look, but it’s riddled with disbelief. “Would I support you getting a six-figure job that would probably give me more time with you and get you away from your family?” He scrunches up his face in that stupid way that says he’s about to make a ridiculous joke, so Alex shoves his palm in Michael’s face to push him away.

When Michael bounces back, he sneaks in and kisses Alex, but it’s not like Alex cares.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Michael says, full of sincerity. “You’re right. You’re dealing with kids and you’re not being paid fairly for it. Maybe it’s time for us to grow up a little, think about saving our energy to use those teaching moments inside our own house. You know?”

Alex _knows_ they’re not talking about training the dog, but he didn’t think they were talking about that just yet. 

“Yeah. I know.”

He hands in his resignation a few weeks later. The students get him a going away gift, which happens to be the world’s largest bottle of tequila, at least it’s the largest that he’s ever seen. 

Well, they might not have listened to him, but at least they were self-aware in the end.

* * *

“I’m done with this, it’s stupid!”

“No, you’re not done and it’s not stupid. Open your book up,” Michael snaps at Rosa, who’s buried in a mountain of books and papers at the Crashdown. Is he still getting used to the fact that while he’s thirty, she’s only twenty-one? Yeah. Is he going to take back his offer to tutor her just because she seems determined to have a complete meltdown over an entry level physics course?

If she keeps this up, he might, but he’d also helped Max through trigonometry in high school and after that harrowing experience, he can do anything.

Rosa looks at him with a death glare, but Michael invented that look and paired it with telekinesis, so he’s not scared. 

“I’m serious, you’re getting way ahead of yourself,” he says, forcing himself to try and de-escalate the situation. He and Rosa are similar in a lot of ways and one of them happens to be their anger issues, in that they keep setting each other off until it’s a full-blown shouting match.

It’s how Michael’s been learning all kinds of new Spanish words, actually, like ‘stupid frustrating alien son of a bitch’ and his personal favorite ‘wishful alien twinkie-ET’. 

Rosa doesn’t seem convinced, but Michael knows that if she’d just give it more than a few minutes, she’ll pick it up. “Look,” he says, and opens the book for it, spinning it around. “Stop thinking about the whole forest and just pick one tree. I will walk you through it and help you understand. Promise.”

She doesn’t seem convinced, but Rosa gives a disbelieving scoff when she keeps staring him down and he doesn’t flinch.

“I should have known you were secretly a genius. Liz always complained about you beating her, but I thought maybe she had a bad test once or twice,” Rosa says, spinning her pencil around like a drummer’s stick. “You’ve always been a science nerd, huh?”

“Science alien genius,” he corrects her. “And this science alien genius is trying to help you pass physics, so you should give him more respect.” 

She still doesn’t look convinced, but she also doesn’t look like she’s ready to keep bickering. Michael gets the feeling that with the semester getting closer to the end, reality is starting to set in for Rosa and she’s figuring out that if she doesn’t get her act together, she won’t be passing the course. Even though Michael doubts she’ll be rubbing elbows with him on a colleague basis anytime soon, he also knows that the last thing Rosa wants to do is drag this out.

It's not that she says it to him, but Liz has confided in him that Rosa feels like the longer she takes getting things together, the more she feels she’s wasting time – even if the ten years in a pod definitely hadn’t been her fault.

They reach a détente when Rosa finally seems to understand vectors and dives into some of the practice work, while Michael scribbles up a plan for her homework. That’s when Liz wanders down to check on them, peering around the doorway. “Are there any knives flying?”

“That was once,” Michael protests, and it’s not his fault that Rosa got him so pissed off by implying that he was a nerd all because he told her that she could apply physics to real life situations and she’d retorted that she’s not ET phoning home like him.

Liz gives them an amused look and holds up a plate of fries. “Sustenance,” she announces, and bumps Rosa with her hip as she makes room for herself in the booth. “Seeing as Alex gets mad when we send you home without having eaten.”

Rosa bites a fry with a lewd smirk on her face. “Really? I would’ve thought he’d like having Michael starving when he gets back. Plenty to eat back at the cabin.”

Liz groans. “Rosa, _ay dios_.”

Michael knows better than to react, seeing as he’d learned that if you gave Rosa an inch, she took a fucking galactic leap. 

“I still can’t believe you’re married,” she says with a scoff. “I mean, you beating Liz in all her test scores in one thing. You beating her down the aisle…?” It’s not like he and Alex had done the big wedding thing, so Michael thinks they can still beat them there. They hadn’t wanted anything big, so they’d signed papers at the courthouse. 

Liz rolls her eyes. “Rosa, I don’t care about the tests or that they got married before us. Alex didn’t die resurrecting you,” she points out. “We had a few more bumps to get through, and Michael and Alex worked those out over the last decade and change. Besides, you were only barely back when we had to tell the two idiots they were even dating.”

“I remember that,” Rosa says, squinting at Michael. “Maria had to tell you, which is wild considering you were hanging around the Pony and making out with her in back alleys for a while.”

Liz smacks Rosa, but it doesn’t seem to stop her.

“Oh, come on, he and Alex worked it out. They got married, I’m their problematic young adult that Michael mentors in physics and Alex mentors in new makeup trends.”

Liz pouts slightly. “Shouldn’t I be doing that?”

“Maybe,” Rosa admits, “but I kind of like when Alex does it. He brings Isobel, they bitch, we drink sparkling non-alcoholic wine. It’s a thing.” 

It’s a weird thing, given how Noah had used Isobel to murder Rosa, but maybe Alex’s presence is making it easier for them to figure it out. Michael’s not going to argue, because she’s right. It’s been nice to have someone to help with these kinds of concepts, because if everything lines up, then he can see him doing this for someone else down the line.

“Rosa does have a bit of a point,” Michael jumps in before the topic can come up (and he knows it will, because if Rosa keeps talking about being Michael’s kid-replacement, then they’ll ask about real kids). “When is Max going to propose?”

Liz throws a few fries at him, which Michael doesn’t even bother to duck. He even manages to snag one out of the air between his teeth.

“He’s your brother. You should know.”

“Right, because Max asks _me_ for romantic advice?” Actually, now that Michael thinks about it, maybe he should. He and Alex have been married almost a year and back together for three. Sure, they didn’t realize that they were dating and okay, so they settled into married life before they had the paperwork, but still…

He shrugs and gives Liz a look like it’s the first time he’s considered it. 

Leaning across the table, he holds his hand out, like he’s ready to bargain. “Rosa gets an A on her physics exam, I grill Max on why he hasn’t proposed.”

Rosa makes an affronted noise, but Liz leans in, ignoring her sister. “Deal.”

From the sound of Rosa’s scoff, someone’s clearly not on board with this plan. “Well, good luck to you, because I was aiming for a solid C, just to break Guerin’s heart. Guess you’ll be an old maid, Elizabeth.” 

And yet, Michael catches her hunkering down over her textbooks a little longer, with a little more attention, and a lot more determination to pull out a result. He presses his lips together to hide his smile as the weeks pass, and thinks that maybe this whole mentoring and shaping young minds thing isn’t as hard as he’d first thought.

* * *

Even though Michael goes with Alex to all his doctor appointments now (and has for years), he still finds himself unnerved by the hospital. He’s been pacing while Kyle assesses Alex’s annual physical results, checking his watch to figure out when they can leave. Every announcement and every smell is overwhelming in the worst ways and Michael wants out.

Actually, no. 

He wants Kyle to sign the damn papers and then he wants out, in that order. 

“Kyle,” Michael pleads. “Seriously, I know it doesn’t take you this long to look at test results.”

Kyle hums and doesn’t look up from his papers. “Maybe, but maybe my best friend doesn’t show up often enough now that he’s boring and married and I’m trying to stretch his visit out.”

That explains the small talk about stupid minutiae at the cabin. Michael rolls his eyes and slumps onto the table, waving his hand like he might as well give them permission to talk about whatever they want. He’ll be the doting, long-suffering husband in the corner while they wait to get what they came here for. 

Finally, they run out of small talk and get to the results – thank _god_.

“Everything is looking good,” Kyle says as he flips through the chart. “Your blood pressure looks good,” he admits, giving Alex an impressed look, though his gaze slides over to Michael. “I’m assuming you had something to do with that to help, not hinder it.”

“Depends on the day,” Alex deadpans.

“I’m happy to sign off on the paperwork,” is Kyle’s promise. “I can’t believe you two are actually…” He’s cut off when the lights in his office suddenly go off. “Shit,” he says, and is on his feet instantly. Considering Kyle is usually cool as a cucumber, him suddenly freaking out in a way that isn’t very Valenti of him is probably a real concern.

Michael had been meaning to crack a joke about Liz clearly overloading Max with sex and causing another blackout, but from the warning shake of Alex’s head, it’d be bad timing.

“Michael, I need you.”

“What?”

“Just, move!” Kyle snaps, and despite his misgivings, Michael’s on his feet. 

Michael follows Kyle through the hospital and the chaos around them means that no one is really giving them a second glance. He has all the freedom to do anything he wants, but the way Kyle is moving, something is clearly going on. Michael turns to make sure he doesn’t lose Alex in the chaos, reaching out to lightly grasp his wrist and pull him in. 

With the way people are bumping around and shoving, the last thing he wants is for Alex to end up on the ground, being trampled in a hospital.

Michael would really hate to murder someone today.

“Here,” Kyle says, taking a sharp right and coaxing them to follow. 

Michael figures that he’s going to be asked to take a look at the generator or do something mechanical to try and figure out why the power’s out. He’s expecting Kyle to ask him to take a look at the hospital’s infrastructure and see if he can dummy up some kind of solution to get them back on the grid. 

What he doesn’t expect is to suddenly have Kyle reach into a machine and gently pry out a baby, wires attached to its tiny body. “Sit,” Kyle instructs Michael. Alex drags a chair over for him, giving Michael somewhere to settle in. “We’ve been upgrading our generators,” he says. “Because our NICU isn’t usually populated, it’ll kick in last. We’re talking fifteen minutes, but…”

Well, that explains it. 

“You need an incubator,” Michael says, curling the tiny infant into his arms gently, making sure the tiny respirator mask and all the wires aren’t getting tangled as he leans back in the rocking chair, staring down at the child in his arms while he pumps the manual oxygen tube to make sure he’s both incubator and respirator. 

He knows that he hasn’t spent the last few years contemplating fatherhood. In fact, he’d go as far as saying that he’d done the exact opposite. Somewhere in the back of his head, he has a long list of reasons why it would be a bad idea to have kids. That’s obviously changed, given the process they’re in the middle of, but he’d always thought about parenthood as something you did with older kids – ones like him that never got a chance to be placed.

Michael’s time with Rosa, helping other kids, and even what they’re preparing for has taught him that he’s ready for this.

Babies are a whole other can of worms.

Every moment is absolutely terrifying. He thinks he’s going to drop the kid, he’s worried that he’s not doing something right, even though all he’s been asked to do is _hold_ her, yet he’s still vibrating nervous energy as he cradles the baby in.

“Here,” he hears Alex whisper quietly, sitting down on the armrest of the plush chair, wrapping Michael up in a blanket that he uses to tuck around the baby as well. Michael breathes out a sigh of relief, because he’s so happy that one of them seems to know what they’re doing with a ticking baby-shaped time bomb in his arms. She’s cute, there’s no getting around that, but the levels of panic Michael is feeling is insane.

That panic only goes away when he looks up to see the way Alex is staring down at him with this _overwhelming_ look of awe, joy, and disbelief on his face. Then, it’s like he’s playing music all over again.

The calm that radiates through Michael is enough to settle him in, slowly rocking back and forth as he leans towards Alex, who’s humming softly under his breath – an old lullaby, Michael thinks, though he doesn’t exactly have experience with getting lullabies from parents.

He rocks the baby and curls her in tightly, Alex sings, and Kyle talks on his cell with anyone he can find for status updates. 

True to Kyle’s predictions, the power kicks back in within fifteen minutes. 

Only seconds after that, Michael is ready to be done with this favor. “Here you go, doc, she’s safe and sound.” Michael watches as Kyle takes the baby out of his arms and gets her situated inside the incubator again. Now that she’s out of his arms, Michael feels _cold_ and he leans down to press a hand to the glass as she turns and fusses a little. Her tiny eyes haven’t opened the whole time, but they blink open just the once and Michael swears she looks right at him.

His heart feels like it tightens in his chest and he lets out a pained noise.

“Thanks, man,” Kyle says, clapping Michael on the shoulder, clearly oblivious to Michael’s currently breakdown. “Alex, I’ll submit the paperwork to …?”

“The address I gave you with the file,” Alex answers. “Thanks Kyle, we’ll see you on Friday.”

Then he’s gone, but Michael is lost. “Friday?”

“He’s coming over for dinner. So’s Isobel.” He says it so innocently that Michael knows this isn’t going to be any old dinner, but a double date kind of dinner. Still, he’s too addled by what just happened with the kid to pay much attention and Alex seems to notice. “You okay, Michael? You did great,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around Michael’s waist from behind, resting his chin on Michael’s shoulder.

He lets out a huff of laughter. “Yeah, I mean, I did,” he agrees, feeling pretty proud. “I guess when I was thinking about us as parents, it was always to kids. You know? Kids who could walk and talk and reason. Ones that had shitty lives and thought they were too old and all their chances were up. I never really considered babies…”

“Until now?”

Michael gives a small noise of agreement. 

“She was so little, but she felt so warm in my arms. And like I could break her at any minute, so there’s no way I could do this on my own.” He turns to give Alex a hopeful little smile, a wary look. “You think maybe that plan of ours, we could adjust some of it? Not biological kids,” Michael insists. “I know your feelings on that,” he says, because he knows he needs to be cautious about the topic.

They’ve stayed up a lot of nights talking about that, how neither of them felt comfortable enough, but that doesn’t rule out infants.

“I think I could figure out how to build a crib,” Alex agrees. “You still looked a little panicked back there, so I’m guessing we’re not talking the first kid.”

“Oh, no way,” Michael agrees immediately. “Fuck no,” he adds, and then gives the infant a guilty look because even though she’s tiny and won’t understand a word of it, he knows that he shouldn’t be cursing around kids. “I mean, maybe eventually, at some point, something will come along.”

“Then,” Alex says, kissing Michael’s cheek and drawing away, “how about we save that conversation for eventually and right now, I go buy you a milkshake so I can cool off.” He tugs on his jacket, his eyes sliding over Michael. “You getting all paternal and holding a baby got me all worked up.”

“I knew it,” Michael taunts with a smirk. “Deep down, you get turned on when I get all domestic.”

Alex raises his brow at Michael in that cutting way that Michael knows from experience is about to cut him down. “You’re saying that if I held a baby in my arms and sang to it while walking around in front of you wearing your softest sweater, you’d feel nothing?” There goes the other eyebrow, his forehead wrinkled up. He tugs on his jacket so he can lean in, smirking as he kisses Michael’s jaw, nipping before whispering, “Don’t be a liar, Michael,” and heads off.

Michael bites his lip and wishes he could argue, but he can’t.

The thought of Alex wearing one of Michael’s soft sweaters and bouncing a kid on his hip while singing to it? Who _wouldn’t_ get all hot and bothered by that?”

* * *

Above him, Roswell’s Group Home looms terrifying and just as large as it had when Michael had been seven and had been shuffled here by a trucker who didn’t know any better. 

He hasn’t been back here since he was fifteen and filed emancipation papers that got him away. He’d done the same two years later with the foster family he’d been placed with, but now he’s back because he _needs_ something from them.

Standing at the group home’s door, Michael feels actually paralyzed in his place. 

Alex had to work, which means that he’s here on his own until Isobel shows up. He’d tried to dissuade her, but she’d insisted that the only thing she had to do was plan the party for when they got their things together and the sooner, the better, so she intends to help. The problem is that she’s late and Michael wants to bolt.

He checks his watch and gives her two more minutes before he leaves.

She makes it with fourteen seconds to spare. “Sorry,” she insists, rushing up. “Sorry I’m late, I’m so sorry,” she says, and hugs him tightly when she gets in. “I lost track of time and then the traffic lights were against me and…”

“You’re here,” he cuts off whatever other excuses she has. 

Isobel breathes out and glances past him to the sign on the door. “This place still makes me feel like shit.”

Michael snorts. “Yeah, well, you only had to stay here for a few weeks. Try getting bounced back here every few months,” he says, wishing he could let some of that bitterness go, but he can’t. He’s still happy that Max and Isobel had an easier time, but that doesn’t stop him from remembering all those lonely nights here with people who didn’t care about him, knowing that with every passing year, he became more unwanted. 

He thinks he’d figured it out at twelve, on his way out the door to the evangelical assholes.

No good parent was ever going to take Michael in, but back then, he figured that just meant that he didn’t deserve one. He knows better now. 

“Come on,” he says roughly, “let’s do this.”

She takes his hand in hers, the way they did when they were in the desert over twenty years ago, but he needs it as much now as he had then. It feels weird not to have Max there with them, but he’s at work and besides that, he’d left a voicemail of encouragement telling Michael that he could do this and he didn’t need his big brother today.

It’s bullshit, because he’ll always need Max, but at least he’s got Isobel.

They head inside and Michael ducks down to ring the bell at the front desk, even though the woman manning it is only a few feet away. When she turns, she looks him over and raises a brow, as if she’s not entirely surprised to see him. 

“Mr. Guerin.”

“Ms. Jones,” Michael replies, trying to keep his calm. 

She’d always been one of the okay ones. Maybe that’s why she’s still around. She’d never hit him or talked to him like he was the scum of the earth, but at the same time, she never hugged him or celebrated when he brought home incredible test scores. Sometimes, Michael wonders how much of his personality had been shaped by people in his life being barely good enough as his pinnacle of parental figures, ranging all the way down the scale to completely awful.

Her eyes slide over him, then jump to Isobel. “Are you and your wife here to look at the children?”

Isobel gives her a disbelieving look. “Seriously? You don’t remember me?”

Ms. Jones blinks at her, which means that she clearly doesn’t.

“Isobel and Max got adopted, remember? The Evans’,” Michael supplies, and Isobel shoots Ms. Jones a smirk when she seems to remember and looks guilty for not recognizing her immediately. “I’m here for my paperwork. My husband and I need it for the fostering license.”

He takes immense pleasure in the way Ms. Jones goes completely calm and still when he stresses the word ‘husband’.

“I see.”

No reprimand. No congratulations. It’s just like old times.

“I’ll go find your file.”

She turns and leaves them at the desk, which works for Michael. Small talk has never been his thing, especially with people he barely tolerates. From here, he can see the main room and he’s looking at it in a new light. The kids are playing together on a tablet while some of them color in the corner and a few sit by the television, enthralled by some cartoon.

The youngest looks about three and the oldest fifteen and right now, they’re not just kids, but they could be part of his future.

“I’m proud of you, Michael,” Isobel says, distracting him from his thoughts. “You don’t have to do this.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Nah,” he insists. “It’s the opposite. I _have_ to,” he vows, voice low. “I can’t let a single kid turn out like me, if I can help it.”

“What, a caring and kind husband who’s trying to make the lives of kids better?”

“No, Iz, it’s…” He turns away from the desk and gives her a pained look. “I know that I’m better now. It took a _long_ time, though, and I’d never wish the way I grew up on any kid. That’s what I mean. I can’t let any of them grow up the way I did, feeling lost and lonely and worthless. If I can make it so that a single one of them doesn’t end up like I did for two decades…” He lets out a rough exhalation. “It still won’t be enough, but at least it’ll be a start.”

Isobel rubs his arm as she leans in, giving him a sympathetic look. 

“I wish I’d had my powers earlier,” she says quietly. “I would’ve made Mom and Dad take you in too.”

He laughs at that, giving her a dubious look. “Michael Evans,” he teases. 

“You would’ve been so popular,” she insists with a laugh. “Actually, you would’ve been shipped off to go be a genius where people would actually appreciate it.” She keeps her line of sight exactly where Michael’s is, on the kids in that room. “When are you and Alex coming back to meet them? Be what the Evans were for me and Max to them?” 

“Once we get all the paperwork signed and filed, the first weekend we get,” Michael says, staring at the kids and feeling this gut-wrenching ache in him finally beginning to ease. He’s never going to undo the problems he faced in the past, but he doesn’t have to for himself. There are these kids and Michael’s got Alex and they’re going to be a family together. 

Shit. If Ms. Jones ever gets back with the paperwork, that is.

Isobel keeps rubbing his back, which helps, because Michael really doesn’t want to end up having yet another breakdown in this building when it’s already driven him to so many. He leans into her and tells himself that it’s fine if he doesn’t meet the kids today, even though he knows from experience that a week can sometimes make all the difference.

“I’m proud of you,” she says again, like she wants it to sink in this time. “I’m gonna be Aunt Isobel,” she beams, “and you’re gonna beat Max to a milestone _again_. I know he’s happy for you, but you should see the look on his face when we’re alone,” she says smugly. “Poor Liz should watch out for him trying to get a baby in her before the wedding.”

That gets a laugh from Michael and he’s so grateful that it relieves some of the tension. “I never held it against you or Max,” he insists. “You two were clinging to one another and I was off being me. You know? Writing on the walls, being too much to handle, the problem child.”

“Michael…”

“No, Iz, it’s okay. Because I was that kid,” Michael admits, and he doesn’t know if it’s because he’d been grieving his mother or too smart for this place or just wanting to go home, “You know what it taught me? It taught me how to survive. It taught me that this place isn’t always fair. It also taught me how to recognize it in other kids. Tutoring Rosa, watching Alex with those kids in his class, helping out at the school, I know I’m ready,” he promises. “I know we’re ready.”

“Then you’ll need these,” Ms. Jones says from behind them, holding out his file. “Your records of your time here with us.”

Michael stares at them, frozen again.

“Michael,” Isobel hisses at him, shoving at him.

He can’t move, because those are the last papers he needs. Once he goes home and they sign off on the application form, they’ll be done. They’ll be ready. He’s ignoring Isobel’s bony fingers digging into the small of his back, but when he moves forward it’s not because of her pushing at him. It’s because Michael wants this, more than he’s wanted almost anything in his life.

“Thank you,” he tells her, even though it’s not for anything before today, “for this,” he adds quickly, because he doesn’t want her going and thinking that he’s retroactively okay with any of the shit that happened to him. “We’ll call and book a visitation appointment.”

“Forty-eight hours notice is required,” Ms. Jones insists, and turns back to where she’d been filing. 

Michael salutes her, even though she can’t see. Tightening his grip on the paperwork, he gives Isobel a hopeful, disbelieving look, like he honestly can’t believe that he’s holding what he is. And yet, here they are.

She pushes him towards the exit, because this time he gets to choose to leave on his own free will. “You’re gonna be a great Dad and when you’re not, you chose a great husband to make up for those faults.”

Coming from Isobel? That’s one hell of a compliment.

* * *

The cabin smells _divine_ when Alex comes home from work. 

He knows he’s a little later than he’d meant to be, especially when he’d received a whole string of texts from Isobel telling him to hug Michael very tightly tonight, which kind of worries him about the group home visit. Still, the smell of a fancy dinner is a good sign and so’s Michael’s seeming good mood. 

“Hey babe,” Michael greets Alex with a kiss when he first enters the kitchen to see what’s going on. 

Alex lingers at his side in the kitchen, peering over Michael’s shoulder to see the herbs being chopped for dinner, and off to the side, a stack of forms with sticky notes on them on the shelf above the counter, so they won’t get dirty or wet. He grins when he reads what they are, knowing why Michael is going to so much trouble to make dinner tonight.

It’s the fostering paperwork that they’ve kept in their bedroom drawer for months. Over the last few weeks, they’ve taken turns getting everything they need to finish it off. Tonight, it being out with the sticky notes and a pen resting on top of it is a good sign. Michael cooking them a big dinner is even better.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” Alex says, tugging the papers off the shelf so he can put them on the kitchen table to study them one last time. He doesn’t think he’s having second thoughts, but he wants to really take a moment to take this in.

It's a _huge_ step. For once, it’s one they’re actively pursuing. 

“I know we kind of fell into dating,” Michael admits. “I know that we even settled into married life before we even got hitched. We’re going eyes wide-open into parenthood, though,” he vows with the stubborn determination that Alex has always loved about him. 

Alex’s gaze slides down to the papers and his smile softens when he sees that the only thing left to do is sign his name to them and Michael’s taken care of the rest.

He grabs the pen and with no hesitation at all, he signs his name to his future.

“Congratulations Alex,” Michael says, collecting the papers and putting them in with his group home records, the medical files (forged for his, real for Alex), their bank statements, and the reports from the auditors who’ve come through the cabin. There are also some incredibly loose background checks, which Alex had fudged to make sure Michael’s visits to the drunk tank were never recorded as actual felonies. “We’re officially going to be foster parents, we’re ready if we want to adopt.”

“Are we ready for this?” Alex asks, which probably isn’t the question he should be asking _after_ signing it, but it’s all real now. 

“Fuck no,” Michael admits, heading back to turn the temperature down on the stove top. He comes back to Alex’s side and cups his cheek before leaning in for a fierce kiss, tangling his fingers up in Alex’s hair as he kisses him hard enough that Alex is genuinely considering letting dinner burn to pull Michael into his lap to ride him.

From the look on Michael’s face, he’s having similar ideas, but there’s Alex’s panic to deal with first.

“We’re not alone,” Michael reminds him, stroking his fingers up and down Alex’s neck. “We’ve got each other, we’ve got our families and friends, and if we screw up, then we screw up. We want to do the right thing, that’s what matters to me.”

The overwhelming burst of affection in Alex is almost enough to make him burst, but Michael’s right. Neither of them had perfect childhoods. They weren’t lucky enough to get great ones, not even good, but they managed to figure it out. If they can do that for a single kid, then it’s worth all the doubt and the second-guessing.

“Celebratory dinner, then?” he says, leaning back to see what’s on the stove.

“Yeah,” Michael agrees. “And then I plan to take you apart for hours, because we’re going to the group home this weekend and when there are kids in this house, I won’t be able to make you scream all the time.” 

“I’m glad to hear you still plan to do it sometime,” is Alex’s calm, yet truly relieved reply.

“What else are babysitters for?”

Laughing, Alex tugs Michael down for one last loving kiss before he pushes him back to finishing dinner. They’ve got plenty to celebrate and Alex intends to enjoy every single moment of it, because Michael’s right. Soon, they won’t be able to do this the way they’ve been used to. 

Funny how that sounds like the best thing in the world instead of a burden, which is when Alex knows.

They’re ready.


End file.
